


Summer Highs and Fall Lows

by Delirioustarot



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Everything is heavily implied, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Poetic, The Author Regrets Nothing, Toxic Relationship, hints of an eating disorder, they were in love once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29694216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirioustarot/pseuds/Delirioustarot
Summary: Technoboo angst because I'm on an angst kick xoxo
Relationships: Ranboo/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 46





	Summer Highs and Fall Lows

**Author's Note:**

> This is some toxic ass love shit xoxo. Also, you may notice I’m no longer anonymous! You all have been so loving I just feel comfortable enough to stop hiding, thank you all for your kindness xoxo Please enjoy my poetic nonsense!

Ranboo learned to knot up his mind; Keep it an enigma, a maze, let people get lost in the haze. He tangled himself in the process, words became lost, thoughts jumping like a frenzy of frogs in a storm. Soon his own voice was choking him, wrapping a noose around his fragile neck, pulling tightly. The confessions of pieces of paper smeared in wet salt weigh his tongue down like an anchor.

Techno treats him as if he is the latest project in a science class. Drugging his fragile mind, until he is a foggy disassociated daze, trapped between numb and aware. Pinning harlequin freckled hands and legs, and spreads them far. The piglin does this for full unblocked access to his own selfish immoral invasion. Ranboo never understood why humanity would torture the innocent for experimentation.

When Techno cuts Ranboo open, he does it slowly. It's as if he enjoys watching the naive hybrid come apart by his hand. Peeling every layer away until fully exposed to him. Ranboo is blood and bone, but no longer anything he would consider alive: Simply an object at Technoblades disposal to study. There was always a part that hoped the destruction of him was worth it to please. Though he knew the other didn't do it for the pleasure, only for the satisfaction of using him against his will. But that's how most dissections go, wasn’t it?

Spinning he wraps himself in pinkened waves. Even now, Technoblade is ecstasy on every gloomy day. Forcing him to his knees and making him pray. It’s taboo the way Ranboo begs to be wrapped in the red cotton stained fantasy, spinning until he can't remember what’s reality. Techno’s kisses are just like honey, sticky sweet and addicting to taste. Ranboo wants to drown in saccharine silence to forget each mistake. He never cared to the side effects, he didn't care to read. He didn't care about the consequences. He just wanted to be at his beloved's knee.

It’s habitual after a while. Soothing. Soon begins a pattern of tying numbers around a near breaking waist, Ranboo wears them with sickening pride. Pale flushed face he hides, popping pills like candy cyanide. He doesn’t want to remember the stories his bruises hide. Stomach acid covered tongue bitten and covered in blood. Wide glassy eyes, chapped lips so full, shaking and smiling just playing the fool. Techo tells him he loves him, pretty white lies, whatever it takes so Ranboo survives.

A puppet strung up on love struck strings. Ranboo distantly knows he’s playing a part but cannot seem to believe. Fickle heart trembling in fear, if he loses him, then what’s the point of staying here? Blurred lines on rosy faces and mumurmed fantasies popping champagne bubbles. Tying up wrists and drinking to forget every single trouble. He writes until the pen bleeds, but he knows he won’t read.

Delicate dried ink curls remind him of the doting addiction they once both held. Popping serotonin laced pills while playing with liquor bombshells. Tracing soaring patterns on the others skin, blowing nicotine vapor puffs their lungs breathed in. Lighting cigarettes like birthday candles, making promise-wishes neither of them could handle. Shaking letters form a picture: Broken hearts from the other’s summer lover. Taking another hit alone and weeping like they're a goner.

Cents for Ranboo thoughts? For his beloved, he begged to buy them for a dollar. He prays Techno will understand even after his heart is a pig to slaughter. He hopes the man won't say yes as they watch the sunsets sipping lukewarm wine. He knows that Techno will mean the answer, and that's what kills him inside. He rather live in the faux reality that cupid's bow has bent. Hazy loving, full of sweet repose and bitter sympathy. 

Drenched in honey lies he rather believe his lover, than ever lose the light. Ranboo can't explain how bitter it is. Knowing Techno prefers the company of soft blonde curls over his. He knows he isn’t good enough for him, yes he knows it's very true. He’s sorry he can't think of himself very highly, but you have to understand that's not the only reason he’s crying. The way Techno thrums on so highly of the older that Ranboo is the one to falter, only sorry he can't be more like him.

The burning envy Ranboo cannot help but feel. Looking away, to hide the red burning flush of shame, if he cannot see it, it won't be real. To fall into the void Techno has dug himself, he'll let it be his grave. And force the fabrics of false bubbling laughter that spins his muddled memories that fade. He’ll drown the hole with the hot liquor tang known so well. To say fuck it, to forget it, for the the first time in his life, pain is too much to feel.

So he isn’t sure why it's those same callused hands he desires. Techno gripping him harshly until he’s bruised. Pink lips and mouth on every single inch, marking and tasting, devouring him. Claiming him, owning him, until he can't remember anything more than Techno’s name. He wants him bad, it's true. 

His piglin darling, how his honey eyes held the pull of worlds. Attracted him as only a satellite, the only purpose was spun in strong fingers so furled. Gifting Ranboo kisses that may pass in shade, but always so shunned when he lingered too long in the day. Ranboo never once questioned the constellations Techno painted on his skin with such rigor; Only when his gravity turned on, and he was no longer a giver. A moon he labeled himself as he hides in shamed phase, he cannot understand why Techno would abandon him this way.

There's an ache in his chest, and lead sinking in his stomach. He can taste the salt from colored tears as his lungs are screaming for air; suffocating in his own despair, praying that he may die from it. Because living without Techno is a world so bland, so horribly unfair, that there is no point in Ranboo staying anymore. Wrap that rope around my neck a little tighter, he begs his beloved, you're the one I so adore.

He had always wondered why Techno never held tightly his hands while close. Realizing now, why hold onto someone so, when you plan on letting them go. Slowly he stops waiting for a whisper or a sweet voice to call, honestly he started wishing they never met at all. 

Techno’s words tainted in lies; Loving him, needing him, telling him why. Using strong hands to carve the meanings into Ranboo’s checkered skin. Using the voice he grew to trust, break the confidence he had struggled with so much. Hating himself is easier now, because even though Techno’s words are killing him, he can't seem to make his beloved a complete villain in his stories. And though he continues to bruise and break him, Ranboo would still say he loves Techno, if he asked him.

Techno always knew how far Ranboo’s limits he could push without him falling it seemed. Making him walk a tightrope thinner than the tangle of strings around his frailing mind he was always calling. He would leave Ranboo love letters on his skin in the form of bruises he didn't ask for. When friends begin asking him, he starts wearing the same black jacket like he had done before. Perhaps staying was the worst thing Ranboo could’ve done. But Techno’s words were so honey spun they drenched all common sense numb. So when Ranboo fades into nothing but loops of writing he leaves on paper whiter than doves, he can only apologize to himself for being addicted to the feeling of being loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I do NOT condone other authors or people in general using my work without my permission. Please do not steal my work, my poems are very personal to me. Thank you all for supporting me and my works xoxo 
> 
> •DeliriousTarot♡


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